


Your Silver Lining (That Protects You From All The World And Its Sharp Teeth)

by Emotionalsorbet



Category: Avengers
Genre: 5 vs 1 if you squint, Also like Jarvis is in this one because im garbage, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dad!Tony, Steve’s here for a hot second so im not even tagging that shit, but like, father son soulmates, hurt!Peter, im not here for that weird peter/tony relationship crap, this is purely me feeding my dad!tony love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:33:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14637081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emotionalsorbet/pseuds/Emotionalsorbet
Summary: Tony’s pretty sure he’s losing it. Either that, or he’s developing motherly instincts.Aka the father/son soulmate au that no one ever asked for.





	Your Silver Lining (That Protects You From All The World And Its Sharp Teeth)

**Author's Note:**

> I usually start things and never finish them but dad!tony is a trope I will sell my soul for.

It starts as a hunch.

Well, er—sort of. It _really_ starts because Tony's pretty sure he traumatized the kid.

And look, okay, it's not like Tony meant to scare him. It's just—Tony woke up at three am with a fucking hole in his chest (metaphorically thank god, because, been there, done that), and nausea drowning him in waves. It was weird, too, because he didn't remember being in the middle of the nightmare. He didn't remember _anything_. He just sat up, gasping, staring into the dark.

And then Peter showed up.

Peter, who probably came out of his room and crawled up the fucking wall until he was stepping in and over Tony and gently whispering, "Mr. Stark?"

Naturally, Tony jumped out of his skin and suits came flying and Peter started _screaming_ and _oh_ _god_ , Tony really never meant for this to happen.

But now they're here: Tony's trying to get the suits away and Peter's as pale as ever, and everything is just one gross serving of the big, the bad, and the awful.

Tony tries not to speak again until the air clears.

"Kid?"

Peter's on the floor, holding his chest, looking like he might cry. It's a little too familiar, the chest thing, but Tony doesn't have the time to worry about that right now. Footsteps creak down the hall and oh god, please god, please _no_ —

"Tony? Is everything alright?"

Crap.

"Yeah," Tony croaks, sacrificing the attention he has on Peter to glance at where Steve is standing in the doorframe. "Everything is fine. Sorry to wake you."

Steve frowns, but the dismissal gets him to leave the matter alone. Tony's thankful for his departure, for whatever caused it, because at least now he can focus on traumatizing the kid.

"Peter."

"S-sorry," Peter says, and his face is tinting red with embarrassment. "I wasn't gonna—I was just going to get water, but I saw—I wanted to ask why Captain America was sleeping on the couch."

* * *

Tony doesn't sleep for the rest of the night.

He stays up, stares at the ceiling, tosses and turns and keeps his eyes peeled for a wall-climbing, scarred fifteen-year old. Thankfully, though, the kid never shows up.

* * *

At six sharp, Tony  rolls out of bed. He sets his feet on the ground softly and pushes off the mattress to stand. It's colder than he remembers, and the floor's freezing. _He's_ freezing.

He grabs a robe on his way out, heads into the hall and down to the kitchen. He's hoping—praying—Peter's still asleep, because there's only so much he can concentrate on at once. And right now, the issue at hand is the star spangled asshole standing in front of the stove.

"Mornin'," Steve says, not turning around.

"Um," Tony greets him, wrapping his arms around his middle and trying to move to the carpet as quickly as possible. "Hi. You can't stay the night anymore."

The smile that Steve had vanishes. He's frowning at a pan full of batter and shaking his head. "Tony—"

"It freaks the kid out," Tony bites his lip, sucking it into his mouth and then pushing it back out.

"He was here for one night," Steve frowns, clicking off the stove and dumping a mound of eggs into a bowl. "It's not like he lives here."

"No, but he might be here more often."

"Still," Steve puts a plate of bacon besides the eggs, and Tony starts to wonder if the guy even slept. "You're not his father, Tony."

Tony half-steps back, most likely feeling more offended than he should. Steve sighs, catching on. He hands Tony a mug filled with coffee.

"Thanks," Tony nods, but his mouth feels dry and his chest feels oddly normal. "I'm going to shower."

* * *

Tony never said he was Peter's dad, and if he ever once implied that, well then he's sorry, because obviously that was a mistake.

Obviously.

He stares himself in the mirror, tries to fall under the impression that everything is fine between he and Steve; that taking a break is a _good_ idea. And it is, sort of: they don't need more on their plate. Not right now.

Tony finishes dressing and walks to where Peter's passed out cold on the guest bed, face down and body sprawled. He looks like he fell off the ceiling, really.

"Hey, kid," Tony tries, bending slightly, cautiously touching Peter's shoulder with only enough force to rouse him. "C'mon. You've got school."

Peter doesn't move.

" _Kid_ ," Tony says again, shaking a little more forcefully. The second he does, Peter startles awake, sucking in air like he's been drowning instead of sleeping. His body goes into fight mode, and he's swinging his fists before Tony registers what's going on.

Peter manages to clip him on the jaw, and the force of it gets Tony to stumble back a bit. He reaches up, stunned, fingers brushing over where Peter just nailed him. Peter gapes, not breathing. "Mr. Stark, I—"

"I'm taking you to school," Tony says, cutting him off. "Be ready."

He tries not to think about the look on Peter's face or the pit in his stomach as he leaves.

* * *

For a while after the incident, it's quiet, and Tony's _bored_.

Days and weeks go by without Peter texting Happy, and Tony's losing his goddamn mind. Sure, he's being productive, but app work and no play made Jack a dull boy.

Tony's  just—he's missing something.

Subconsciously, he reaches up, brushing over where Peter clocked him a few days ago. At this point, the bruise is pretty much healed, and the skin is taut and unaffected when Tony touches it.

He sighs.

Damn, he misses this kid.

"Jarvis, clear my schedule for the day."

* * *

High school really doesn't look any better when you're an adult.

Tony's leaning against the passenger door of his car, sunglasses on as he scans the crowd of moody, zit-faced teens. Peter's not out yet, clearly, because if was, he would've seen Tony by now.

At least, Tony thinks he would have.

Peter comes out less than a minute later. His head is hung low and he's gripping the straps of his backpack, laughing lowly at whatever Ned just said. Tony wants to whistle, only, he doesn't know how.

Regardless, though, he's pretty sure he doesn't need to.

"Yo! Is that _Tony Stark?_ "

Peter's head snaps up as _check it out!_ 's ring through the air. Tony smiles to himself, quietly, thoroughly enjoying when Ned leans over and whisper-asks, "Shit. What did you do?"

Ned and Peter part right after, and Peter looks overly uneasy as he steps away to make his way over. "Uh, hey, Mr. Stark."

His eyes are wide, and he doesn't exactly seem pleased by the surprise visit. If anything, he looks like he might throw up.

"So nervy," Tony says, slinging an arm over the kid's shoulders. "What, not thrilled to see me?"

Peter laughs nervously, and Tony remembers that the last time they spoke was when he got punched in the jaw. "No-no, it's not—I mean, sorry, Mr. Stark. Hi."

* * *

Peter talks a mile a minute.

At a few points, Tony's not even sure what about. The kid just runs his mouth and gets Tony's head wrapped around ten different details at once.

"—and in calculus I had an exam, but that was fine, and in history we were assigned a project due next week, so er, I'm kind of, sort of freaking out in like, advance, and in chemistry we did this experiment, and, uh, look, Mr. Stark—"

Tony does. He's frowning, and he's almost slamming into the car in front of them to do so, but he does look. And when he does, Peter's staring at him intensely, eyes wide. He's biting his lip, and his hands are fidgeting in his lap, and he just looks so... _guilty_.

"I'm sorry I punched you in the face the other day."

Oh, right.

"Kid, you don't have to worry about that, alright?" Tony looks at him, long and hard, watches the kid swallow and look away. "I'm serious. Nightmares are a perk of the job. But you could have told me you've been having them."

"Sorry."

"No, hey—no apologizing. I just—that why you came into my room that night?"

In the sun, Peter's face flushes ever so slightly. "Yeah."

Tony smiles then, just a little, because at least now his waking up is justified. "Peter, I'm gonna tell you a secret, alright?"

Peter frowns, clearly lost, but he nods anyway.

"You and I are more alike than you think."

* * *

Tony makes it a goal to flag down Thor, because he's convinced, and Bruce doesn't do well with theories that don't deal with hard, concrete science.

So he tries, and he tries, and then he gives up.

He phones Rhodey after an hour of trying, sits on the couch and sighs to himself, because he knows, he _knows_ that something's going on: he can literally _feel_ whenever Peter's under the slightest of stress. It's not normal, and he thinks that he's turning into a mother, maybe.

Whatever it is, it's making him antsy.

Rhodey shows up half an hour later behind the elevator doors and just kind of blinks at Tony as Thor steps out behind him. "Are you aware that you had a god wandering about downstairs?"

Tony's blinks back.

"Thor! My lovely companion! What brings you here?"

Thor frowns, "Heimdall said that there was a small man on the roof of a tower waving his arms and calling for me. Was that not you?"

Amused, Rhodey cocks an eyebrow. Tony's face tints pink.

"Not the point. Point is: I have a theory."

Thor raises his eyebrows, but he does sit. He leans back and crosses his legs and stares at Tony intensely the whole time he speaks.

Then he smiles.

"I believe that what you are describing is a parent-child soul bond," Thor explains. "Do you consider yourself to be the Man Spider's father?"

Tony sputters. "No."

"Oh. Guardian, then?"

"Sure."

"The parent-child bond still fits, I believe," Thor nods. "Just under different rules. The pain is still in your mind, like when a woman is pregnant and her husband shares in her distress."

Tony stares, processing. "Thank you, um. That will be all."

Thor widens his smile, stands up. Leaves.

* * *

Later on in the week, Tony gets abnormally anxious over nothing. It’s a warm feeling, nerves boiling and bubbling, and he freaks for a second.

Just a second.

He decides to wait it out, lets the anxiety fizzle into nothing before he does anything. Once it does, though, he calls Peter. It's late, and in theory, neither of them should actually be up, but Peter still answers his phone, so.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, hi. Did I wake you?"

"No, I'm—you didn't. Not to sound rude, but why are you calling?"

"You do your presentation today?" Tony asks instead.

Peter doesn't question it. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

He's confused, Tony can tell, but he doesn't push it. “How'd it go?"

"Good! I was kinda freaking out—er, uh, I mean, good. It was good."

Tony laughs, softly, lets his nerves calm as Peter keeps talking. "I'm sure you did fine."

* * *

The pain feels like a bullet to the stomach.

"Jarvis," Tony gasps, trying to breathe through the pain, "I want coordinates on Spider-Man, now."

"Locating Spider-Man, sir."

They're in the middle of New York, fending off what should have been a small thing (hence, why the kid is here), and they're getting absolutely crushed. A group of robbers who got their hands on some left over tech from an old fight. Simple. Easy. They don't even know how to wield the things.

Wrong.

Tony's getting shot at, and while that's not necessarily a new concept, it is precisely the definition of a new concept. He's getting shot at by a group of amateurs, and now he can't even find Peter.

Great, just great.

He keeps going, eyes moving shifting as he fights and grunts and pushes and pushes and come on, come _on_ —

"Spider-Man is currently on the corner of Madison Avenue and East 34th Street."

It takes seconds—Tony's blasting out of his current predicament and through the air, searching scanning, hoping to god that Peter isn't going to be as bad as Tony's feeling right now. The anxiety doesn't help much, latching onto the pain and mixing with it and swirling in waves in nausea as he lands and sees Peter and—oh god.

He rushes over then, drops the helmet and runs falls to his knees, starts rightfully panicking, because Peter's not moving.

"Jarvis," he says, "vitals."

But Peter reaches one hand up and starts tugging at his mask shakily, trying to get it off, trying to breathe. Tony can't get in there fast enough.

"Hey, hey," Tony says, as calmly as he can, "you're alright. You're okay."

"Mr. Stark," he gasps, and The pain in Tony’s stomach gets sharper. His mouth opens a second time, but Tony shushes him.

"What happened?"

It's Jarvis who speaks first, who chimes in over all the static and gets Tony's breathing a little more stable. "It appears Mr. Parker has suffered a stab wound to the abdomen, sir."

"You were stabbed?"

And maybe there's a little too much emphasis on the word, because Peter flinches, and Tony feels it. Peter swallows thickly, gasps right after.

The movement gets Tony to glance down to see where Peter's gloves are stained a darker red around the fingertips, to see where he's pressing his hands hard into his stomach.

"I'm sorry," Peter gasps. "They—they came out of nowhere, and I—"

"Hey, don't worry about that, okay? You're fine. We're gonna get you out of here and you're going to be fine."

"Medical assistance has been alerted," Jarvis informs, and Tony breathes a little easier.

"You're going to be fine,” he repeats.

And when the dust has cleared and they’re dressed in civilized, blood-free clothing in the hospital room, Tony takes one look at where Peter's stitched up and sleeping peacefully and knows that for sure.


End file.
